“She won’t know you from Adam,” said Martha, jealously.
“Perhaps—in—time,” replied Crowson, stroking his forehead. “Thank God! I’ve the means to find out.”
“Have we got to give up Lucianna?” quavered the woman. “If—if it’s for her good, I s’pose I could stand it, but what will Enos say? She won’t want to go, neither.”
The man turned his head suddenly, and coughed.
“We will fix everything right,” he said, gently. “I’ll take no step without your consent. Let’s see! To get back to business—” he smiled, whimsically. “You mustn’t think a personal matter can influence our regulations. That bill of yours must be settled.”
Martha jumped. In her excitement she had quite forgotten the landlord, the house and the gravity of the Matchett situation.
Speechless, she drew herself up. Could this hard-headed man be so devoid of humanity, after what had happened, as to refuse her assistance?
“Still,” he went on in his matter-of-fact tone, “I’ll give you a little more time on it. Till next week, say. Here is the money, but say nothing about it. Quite against rules, you know.”
He pulled out a wallet and handed her four bank notes, three tens and a five.
“Thanks!” said Martha, counting them mechanically. “I s’pose you want this;” she held out the receipted bill.